


The illogicality of caring

by TimesBeingWhatTheyAre



Series: Where no man has gone before [8]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Drabbles, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humour, Light Angst, M/M, Pre-Slash, Romance, Slash, episode tags, h/c, hiding somewhere I'm sure, outsider pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:21:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27805249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimesBeingWhatTheyAre/pseuds/TimesBeingWhatTheyAre
Summary: The house that Spock lived in as a child was built for four occupants; two adult Vulcans and two child Vulcans.The room that Spock lives in at the academy is designed for two occupants, one on each side of the room.When he and Jim return to teach at the Academy, they buy a house designed for three. He thinks that one day they will fill it.(He is content there most of all).
Relationships: James T. Kirk & Leonard "Bones" McCoy, James T. Kirk & Leonard "Bones" McCoy & Spock, James T. Kirk & Spock, James T. Kirk/Spock, Leonard "Bones" McCoy & Spock
Series: Where no man has gone before [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2012116
Kudos: 19





	The illogicality of caring

**Author's Note:**

> So this is what it says on the tin. I'd also like it to be known that the draft of this was most definitely called 'Dumbasses on a Spaceship', and I think this name is still entirely applicable.
> 
> Enjoy this randomness! The last of my Nano Star Trek fics :)

Outside the window

Spock is not often given to looking out the window, but sometimes he will catch a glimpse of the darkness out of the corner of his eye, and will lose hours staring at it.

It still astonishes him sometimes. He would never have dreamed that he would serve on a Starfleet ship. Growing up, he had done all he could to be the perfect Vulcan son, and that always involved applying to the VSA, never Starfleet. That had been a surprise for all of them, Sarek perhaps most of all, because his mother knew a little more about his true nature, and she had caught him staring up at the stars when he was young.

Now he travels among them.

“See something you like, Spock?” a voice says softly, and Spock doesn’t need to take his eyes away from space to know that it’s Jim besides him.

“Space is fascinating,” he replies, the closest he will come to admitting how much of his life has been dedicated to searching for something in the stars.

“That it is,” Jim says, and his hand comes to settle quietly on Spock’s lower back. It is warm.

Spock doesn’t move. He finds he is content.

* * *

Unrequited love

Ensign Richards has always admired Commander Spock. She admires his rigorous attention to detail, his unfailing honesty, and his willingness to help her whenever she struggles with sections of her experiments, and she is also not in love with him.

This is not, however, a fact that Ensign D’Ulva is willing to accept.

“Just admit it,” he hisses at her from across the bench, and she pointedly turns her back on him, focusing solely on her newest specimen, collected from Pulonia on their most recent expedition planet-side. Her microscope had shown the dead plant cell clearly moving, and its hypnotic motion had quickly become one of her favourite things to observe.

“We all know it,” he continues, and she closes her eyes for a long moment, letting her breath out in a collected exhale, and looks back down her lens.

If she pretends he’s not there, then he might go away.

“Jane! It’s not hard…” he prods, taking a step closer, and she gives up on her sample, looking up and finally meeting his eyes for the first time in minutes. 

“I. Am.  _ Not _ . In love with him,” she glares, not daring to open her mouth too much in case the Commander happens to be listening. It’s Beta shift, and Commander Spock had come down to work on his station at the back of the room, and she really does not want to disturb him with this.

“Do you understand that, Mungo?” she adds pointedly, raising a weary hand to her brow to press away the wrinkle lines she can feel forming.

“Is there a problem here, Ensign Richards, Ensign D’Ulva?” a voice asks from behind, and Janet freezes, pinning D’Ulva in place with a glare.

“No sir,” she says calmly, not turning to meet the steely gaze she knows is being levelled her way.

“I see. Ensign D’Ulva?” Spock asks over her shoulder, and she widens her eyes at Mungo, silently willing him not to say a word.

“Just a personal issue!” he grins brightly at the commander, and Janet very carefully does not heave a sigh of relief.

“For future reference, please refrain from bringing your ‘personal issues’ into your workspace,” Spock cautions lightly, and Ensign Richards feels as he moves away, presumably back to his desk.

D’Ulva grins even brighter than before, and she finally gives in to the impulse to step around the desk and into his face, grabbing hold of his collar and yanking him towards her.

“Shut. Up.” she enunciates carefully, and Mungo mimes zipping his lips quickly, a mischievous fire burning in his eyes, and she’s reluctantly forced to take him at his word, letting him go slowly even as she watches him closely.

She turns back to her station, and continues to not blush at the thought of Commander Spock watching her protectively, because she is a grown woman and not in love with her superior officer.

No matter what Mungo says.

* * *

Empathy

“Why doesn’t he feel the same way?” a female voice sobs, and Spock pauses on his way back to his room. 

He does not like to eavesdrop. However, he is also not a fan of pain.

Spock looks at the rooms around him and judges which is the most likely to contain an upset female, and opens the door.

“S-Sir!” one of the newer ensigns sputters out, climbing to her feet at the sight of him, and frantically wiping moisture off of her cheeks as though he is likely to miss such an expression of emotion. 

On Vulcan, tears would indicate emotional weakness. The ensign is fortunate that he has spent much time around humans.

“I wish to inquire as to your wellbeing, Ensign,” he says, stepping into the room just enough for the door to close behind him and afford the woman a little privacy.

“I’m f-fine, sir,” she sniffs, and Spock knows this is an indication of emotional upset. He considers his courses of action for a moment, then steps forwards and over to the replicator, bringing out a hot chocolate.

“I believe this is desired by humans when they experience pain,” he says, offering it out to the ensign, who looks vaguely stunned.

“Th-Thank you, sir,” she murmurs, and shyly takes the mug from his outstretched hand, a small smile curling uncertainly around her lips.

“Might I also suggest you talk to Nurse Chapel? She is extremely friendly,” Spock advises, and turns around, his purpose fulfilled.

“Okay,” the ensign says quietly behind him, and Spock steps briskly out of the room, continuing back on his previous path.

* * *

The Vessel

Spock beams back on board the Enterprise, and is greeted by the familiar face of Scotty at the controls, and Jim waiting for him.

“Welcome back Spock,” Jim says with a smile.

“Thank you captain,” he replies, stepping off the transporter platform and towards his captain.

“Did you enjoy yourself on Vulcan?” Jim inquires, clapping him on the shoulder in an acceptable facsimile of a hug.

“I did,” Spock says simply. He looks around him. The metal walls vibrate faintly with the hum of the engines, and there is still a scorch mark on the edge of panel 3 where Ensign Smithson accidentally overpowered the torch when checking on the wiring.

“It is, however, good to be back,” he says.

Jim grins, and leads him out into the hallway.

“Good to have you back home,”

* * *

Pranks (Part 1)

Sulu would like it known for the record that he is not the one who began this. He came up with no ideas, was involved in only minor aspects, and this mess is entirely Chekov’s fault.

“Hikaru,” Chekov whines, his head tilted upwards and a pout on his boyish face.

“No,” Sulu says, and concentrates hard on his work. Chekov has a bad habit of distracting them both, and the last time they had gotten too distracted, it had been Mr Spock reprimanding them and he does not want that.

“Don’t you zhink it vill be fun?” Chekov wiggles his eyebrows, and Sulu tries his best to turn off his peripheral vision.

“Pavel, do you want to be yelled at again? Because I don’t!” Sulu hisses back, and adjusts their course slightly.

“Ve von’t be yelled at!” Chekov smiles winningly, leaning over slightly so that he can poke Sulu in the arm. “Come  _ on,  _ Hikaru. Vork is not a volf you know!”

“What?” Sulu says, confused, looking up at Chekov and seeing his triumphant face, and determinedly looking away again. “No!”

“Vork is not a volf, it won’t escape into ze forest,” Chekov elaborates, and Sulu frowns, trying to work out the logic of it.

Then he realises that he is once again not working.

“Pavel, you-” he begins, abruptly realises it is pointless, and shuts his mouth, trying to pretend as though his friend is invisible.

Chekov pouts a little, and continues monitoring his console. Sulu sighs in relief, and continues his work, and a peaceful silence falls over the pair, broken only by the hum of the engines and the occasional beeps of their stations.

“...I’ll fence vith you,” Chekov smiles slyly, leaning forwards and turning his face just enough for the expression to come into Sulu’s direct eyeline.

Sulu hesitates. It’s cruel of Pavel to say such a thing, because they both know that he always wants more people to fence with, and really, he’s just trying to do his job.

“...fine,” Sulu gives in, and Chekov’s smile grows even wider, his tongue poking through the gap between his teeth.

“Great!” he says, glancing behind them to where nobody seems to be paying attention to their conversation. Captain Kirk is buried in paperwork (well, PADDS) and is gloomily reading and signing them, with Yeoman Green neatly taking them off his hands as he finishes with them. Commander Spock is sat at his console, head dutifully bowed to the scanner, presumably mapping something or marking down reports of anomalies, as he likes to do.

As Chekov thought. Nobody is watching.

“Okay, I bet you ten credeets that the keptin falls asleep,” Chekov whispers to Sulu, who quickly glances behind him to appraise the situation.

“Sure,” he agrees, and Chekov grins victoriously. They shake hands surreptitiously, and turn back to their work, both keeping an eye on the captain in the corner of their view and in the slight reflection left on the viewing screen.

His head nods. His eyes flutter a little.

He does not fall asleep.

There’s ten minutes left on their shift, and Sulu takes the opportunity to lean over and elbow Chekov.

“I think you owe me ten credits,” he hisses, smile brewing on his face too, because Sulu is not an instigator but that does not mean that he participates in these things reluctantly.

“Ze shift is not over!” Chekov grumbles back, and Sulu smirks, sitting back a little and preparing for a win.

Chekov bristles, but does nothing. They stare at each other for a few moments, tension growing, and- 

They are interrupted by a brief sound of a snore.

“Captain!” Chekov hears Yeoman Green exclaim quietly, and both him and Sulu whip their heads around in time to catch Captain Kirk opening his eyes a little blearily and reaching for the next PADD, apparently pretending he can’t hear the yeoman.

Sulu and Chekov turn back to face the consoles slowly.

“I believe zis is a vin for Russia,” Chekov states to the empty air in front of him.

Sulu moans slightly, and rests his head in his hands. “It was so close,” he mourns quietly, and Chekov pats him on the back sympathetically.

“It is okay, Hikaru. I do not require it immediately,” he says, and Sulu gives Chekov a deadpan stare, not believing the sympathy for a moment.

“Or...I guess you could vin it back?” Chekov smiles innocently, holding up his hands nonchalantly, and Sulu narrows his eyes.

“You bet I will,” he says, and ignores the grin that Chekov sports. He knows he’s just given into the game, but he’s down ten credits, and damned if he’s going to let that go so easily.

* * *

Dancing

Spock strums the strings on his lyre, carefully tuning the knobs with his other hand to ensure it lets out a smooth tone, and pretends not to enjoy the sound of Uhura’s melodic voice joining in with his song.

She winks in his direction, standing up from her seat next to him and trailing her fingers delicately along his forearm as she does so. The gesture is oddly comforting.

Spock continues on to the next cadence, and Uhura begins to dance, her voice weaving in and out of the main melody along with her movements, and she pulls Chapel in from the side to dance with her. The woman goes happily, and laughs as Uhura twirls her around the room despite the height difference between them.

The song draws to a close, and Sulu throws a flower over to Uhura, who catches it and bows.

Spock does not bother standing.

They have another song to play.

* * *

Food

“Who was the genius who called this food,” Bones complains, sinking heavily into the seat opposite Spock.

Spock raises an eyebrow. “That is indeed food,” he points out.

“Don’t get logical with me. This shouldn’t qualify as food,” he retorts, pointing a vigorous fork at the Vulcan, who raises the other eyebrow.

“I believe the definition of food is that it is nutritious and maintains life,” Spock adds, and takes another bite of his own food.

It is true that the substance that the replicators produce is perhaps not as flavoursome as he is inclined towards. However, he is not given to complaining; neither does he wish to strengthen McCoy’s argument.

“Your definition lacks something Spock,” Bones argues, and Spock looks at him.

“My definition is accurate,” he says, and Bones snorts.

“Accurate maybe. But food also should be tasty! You should find joy in eating it!” he exclaims, glumly prodding at the potato on his plate.

“It is illogical to tie emotions to a definition of an object,” Spock comments. He is mostly arguing for the sake of it, but he is not going to admit that either.

“I’ll show you illogical,” Bones mutters darkly, and Spock wonders if it would be a good time to point out the unimaginative percentage of McCoy’s insults that circle around a concept of logic and various parts of the anatomy.

“What are you two nattering about?” Jim says cheerfully, joining the table and sliding in next to Spock.

“The doctor is being illogical-”

“Spock refuses to admit that this isn’t food-”

They both explain at the same time, and Spock cuts himself off part way, sending a look of quiet disagreement McCoy’s way and eating another bite of food.

“I see,” Jim says, a bright smile spread across his face. Spock is uncertain what he finds entertaining. “Well, I must say-”

“Jim, just shut up and let me eat,” Bones grumbles, and Jim laughs.

Spock glances up, and the doctor is poking dubiously at his plate once again.

There might be some amusement in it.

* * *

Eye contact

The lasers fire, the sound of the beams coming dangerously close to Spock and Jim as they run across the hallway, ducking down to find more cover behind a conveniently placed stack of supply boxes. Spock tucks himself into the wall, behind his captain, but more than ready to cover him if another round of fire were to come through.

The noise cuts off abruptly, and all Spock can hear for a moment is the sound of his and Jim’s breathing, and the rabbit beat of their hearts. It disconcerts him somewhat to not hear any indication of their enemy’s presence.

Jim locks eyes with him, and flicks his gaze across to the left once, then nods at Spock. Spock nods back, maintaining the eye contact, and Jim pauses a moment with a slightly softer look. He returns it briefly, allowing his eyes to show what he cannot say, and then they burst into action. 

Spock runs out first, drawing their fire to the left as Jim sprints out to the right, preparing to deal with whatever it was he had spotted over there. Spock suspects it is the large panel of buttons that has caught his interest, but continues in his own role as distraction, running directly towards the lead alien to subdue him and hopefully subdue the rest of the hivemind.

Their plan works perfectly. 

Spock wonders at their ability to communicate so effectively without words, and is quietly and privately grateful for any advantage they can get against the universe. He is slowly growing certain that Jim himself might be Spock’s greatest advantage in life.

* * *

The Rocket Ship

The unrecognised form of a ship bobs across the screen, magnified but growing ever closer. It has no lights on, and no signs of life.

“What do you think, Mr Spock?” Jim asks, and Spock tilts his head to the side slightly, considering his options and coming to a conclusion.

“I believe it is likely friendly, captain. We should attempt communication, but remain alert for possible attack,” he judges, analysing the details of the unknown ship that has drifted into their path. It appears dead, but they have been fooled before, and neither are willing to do so again.

“Great. Mr Spock, I leave you in charge of the bridge then. Mr Sulu, Bones, if you would accompany me,” Jim says decisively, and Spock walks gracefully over to take Jim’s chair as the small landing party begins their path down to the transporter, hopefully with a few security joining them on the way.

“Mr Chekov, please be prepared to ready phasers if necessary,” Spock orders quietly, and Chekov nods, watching the screen as avidly as Spock is doing.

An unknown rocket ship is not an unfamiliar occurrence in their line of business. The writing on the side seems to indicate some form of unknown communication, given that their Universal Translators have been unable to communicate its meaning, but a scan revealed extensive scientific laboratories and medical facilities.

Spock has judged it to be an exploratory vessel. 

He hopes he is correct.

* * *

Pranks (Part 2)

“Do you think Vulcans can get drunk?” Sulu wonders out loud, sitting next to Chekov and Uhura at a table in the corner of a restaurant they’ve found in their explorations during the shore leave.

“I know how ve can find out,” Chekov smirks, and Sulu groans.

“They don’t get drunk on alcohol,” Uhura adds in her two cents, and both of them turn to face her curiously.

“...Vhat do zey get drunk off?” Chekov asks, and Uhura smiles at them innocently.

“Chocolate,” she says simply, and both of the pilots’ mouths fall open.

“No way,” Sulu says, and Uhura raises one elegant eyebrow and looks down her nose at the pair.

“Wanna bet?” she smiles, and Sulu wonders if it would be rude to jump across the table and put his hand over her mouth before she can say things like that. He eyes her slightly, and realises that there’s a gleam in her eyes, and-

“Pavel, she knows,” he informs his friend, because he is kind and also because he doesn’t want to suffer alone.

“Vhat do you mean, she knows,” Chekov leans in closer and asks, because he is naive and does not understand what that  _ look _ means.

“I mean she very clearly is goading us into betting. She  _ knows _ about the- you know,” he hisses back, and Chekov blinks his wide eyes at him from not very far away.

“I do  _ not  _ know!,” he replies, his tone frustrated, and Sulu thinks maybe he should have found a smarter friend to die alongside.

“The betting!” Sulu gives in and says, and across the table Uhura lightly clears her throat. Sulu freezes and looks at Chekov, who freezes and looks back, and the two of them quickly draw apart and sit completely still, looking at her.

“Gentlemen. 20 credits each that I can get Mr Spock drunk,” she says, and Sulu is incapable of denying her anything because he fears the repercussions too much.

“Vhat do ve do!” Chekov hisses from the side of his mouth, and Sulu looks at him with an expression that says ‘ _ duh _ ’ as loudly as he can, without actually resorting to words.

“We give her the money and watch the show,” he says, and Chekov considers it for a moment, and then nods vigorously.

“Yes, yes,” he says, and Uhura allows her smile to widen as she stands.

“Well then,” she replies, tossing them an elegant wave as she leaves the table, walking up to the bar and ordering something. Sulu and Chekov watch her go, and see as she picks up the drink she’s ordered and walks over to where Spock and Jim sit, deep in conversation.

“She’s going to die,” Chekov says blankly. Nobody likes to interrupt their Captain and First Officer’s conversations. It tends to occur shortly before unfortunate scheduling shifts to the middle of the night and days of tense silence.

“No, we are going to lose money,” Sulu responds resignedly, then thinks over the situation a little more.

His lips twitch.

“Pavel, do you have a camera?” he asks Chekov slowly, and the man nods subtly, drawing a small device out of his bag and surreptitiously pinning it to his collar. 

Sulu nods back. “Good man,” he says, and yes, this is why they are best friends, he remembers now.

Uhura leaves the drink on the table, next to Spock, and she joins the conversation for a few minutes, then pats the captain amiably on the back and saunters away, gliding to a stop back at their table.

“Did you-”

Uhura smirks lightly, the expression teasing along her mischievous eyes. 

“Thanks for the credits, boys,” she says silkily, sitting back and sipping her own drink, swaying along calmly to the music as Chekov and Sulu watch the scene across the room with wide eyes. Sulu has to suppress an urge to cheer when Spock reaches down and almost absent-mindedly picks up the drink, sipping at it for a moment, and then taking a couple of bigger gulps until the glass is empty.

Sulu sends a panicked glance at Uhura, who smiles back calmly. 

Unfortunately, they don’t get to watch the scene for long, because a few minutes later Spock leans forwards and places his hand on the captain’s arm, who seems to freeze up for a moment before continuing the conversation.

Spock leaves his hand there for a little while, and then Jim reaches out with his hand and it looks a little like he brushes his fingertips against Spock’s hand, but it’s hard to tell from the distance. Sulu thinks they can check it on the camera later.

Spock leans in a little further, saying something to the captain, who smiles and then-

Well, Sulu must be drunk too. Because it looks like Commander Spock smiles.

He rotates his head slowly to exchange looks of disbelief with Chekov, and by the time he looks back, they are gone. 

“I vould never have guessed,” Chekov says, stunned.

“Neither would I,” Sulu says, shocked.

Uhura smiles at them, and stands once more, melting into the crowd towards the dance floor in the corner. Chekov and Sulu sit in silence for a little longer, then a waitress comes by and they both get a few drinks, then a couple more and then-

Well, the next morning Sulu wakes up in a Jeffrey tube slumped over Chekov, both of them wearing an odd assortment of makeup, and neither one capable of movement until one of the engineers stumbles across them and forces them out with threats of telling Scotty what they’d been up to.

Sulu tries to reassure the angry ensign that really, they have no idea what they’ve been up to, but he gets nowhere.

They support one another blearily in the middle of the corridor, and Chekov turns to look at Sulu with eyes that barely open.

“Hikaru…” he begins, then trails off, and Sulu is just as wrecked, and neither one prepared when the captain suddenly turns around the corner and bounces up to them.

“Mr Sulu, Mr Chekov! How are you this fine morning?” he beams, and they stare back at him, completely unprepared for energy of any sort.

“Great, thank you sir,” Sulu eventually manages to force his brain to function a little, and Chekov nods (well, his head sags forwards and the captain chooses to take it as agreement. Sulu thinks).

“Glad to hear it,” Jim says, unperturbed, and continues on his way.

“I zhink something great happened last night,” Chekov says groggily. “I just vish I could remember vhat it vas,”

“Me too, Pavel, me too,” Sulu bemoans, and they stagger onwards into Chekov’s room, which is thankfully close, and fall asleep again, with very little recollection of what happened to 40 credits between the two of them.

* * *

Dream Catcher

“May I introduce the negotiator from Vulcan, S’chai T’gai Spock,” the man introduces, stepping to the side slightly to allow the Vulcan diplomat to step forwards. “And the negotiator from Earth, James T.Kirk,”

“A pleasure,” Jim says with a smile, not necessarily meaning it. His experience with Vulcans has always been somewhat cold, although he’s sure there won’t be any actual issues working together.

Spock said nothing, inclining his head in a respectful nod, and Jim remembers to resist the urge to hold his hand out for a handshake.

“We are overjoyed to have you both here for this momentous occasion,” their guide continues, his tone enthusiastic, but Jim was slightly struggling to work out if the strange angle of his mouth was meant to be a smile.

“We were pleased to be invited,” Jim says, meaning it. He isn’t entirely certain that S’chai T’Gai Spock is necessary here too, but the factions on the planet had each demanded their choice of negotiator, and the Federation was eager to settle a peace treaty for the end of the war.

“May I inquire as to the proposed schedule?” Spock speaks for the first time, and Jim realises that he has a lovely voice, smooth and low. It’s strangely confident for an emotionless species, but Jim has never quite worked out how that works.

“Oh, but of course!” the guide exhubes, and Jim struggles to recall that there really was a war taking place until about 2 days prior to their arrival. “We were hoping to begin negotiations tomorrow, so would you like a tour around our facilities? Or I am able to show you directly to your quarters,”

Jim looks over at Spock, who meets his eyes and expresses nothing.

“Perhaps we could find you for a tour later?” he suggests, and the guide nods, not at all offended.

“This way then,” he says, and Jim and Spock fall into an easy pace just behind him. Jim has some luggage, but it has been brought down separately, and he presumes the same for Spock.

They walk for a couple of minutes, catching glimpses of the true landscape beyond the white gilded walls of the building, and eventually are escorted into one final hallway. 

“I shall see you later,” the guide bows out, and they are left alone without further ado.

“Well then,” Jim says, mostly out of a lack of better things to say, and pushes open the doors to see a singular bed. Sure, its a large bed, but there is very definitely one bed and one bedroom for the two of them.

He looks over to Spock.

“Guess it’s time to become friends?” 

* * *

Animals

Jim sneaks through the hallways, pretending very hard that his handful of jacket is not wriggling in his arms. It’s not working all that well, given that he doesn’t actually do laundry, and also that it is trying very hard to jump out of his hands and make a break for the airlock.

“Browns,” he says with a strained smile, sweeping past the Ensign and carefully not stopping to address the poor man’s confused “-captain?”

He’s almost home safe when his jacket twitches aggressively and something small and fluffy catapults itself out of the tiny pile, landing with a quiet  _ thud _ on the floor.

“Don’t you dare!” he whisper-shouts, immediately dropping the top and launching himself at the soft lump, capturing it triumphantly between his outstretched fingers, and then hearing the sound of a door opening.

He looks up slowly. 

The door in front of him is open, but unfortunately it’s not his door. No, it’s the one next door, and Spock is standing tall over him, one eyebrow raised in something that Jim hopes is respect and not an effort not to smile.

Spock stands still for a moment, taking in the situation, and Jim grins up at him nervously, pulling the tribble in towards his chest.

“I can explain?” he tries.

Spock says nothing.

The tribble tries once again to break free, but Jim has a firm hold on it this time, and it doesn’t manage to break free. He gives it a glare though, mostly for the principle of it.

The door slides closed again, Spock firmly on the other side.

Jim wonders if he’s going to want a pay rise.

* * *

Friendship

When Bones first meets Spock, he thinks he is a stand-offish Vulcan with a superior attitude and an inability to understand empathy or any other human emotions. By the time he’d know Spock for a year or so, he thought roughly the same thing, with a little added grumpy nature and obliviously head over heels for Jim.

He never in a million years would have expected to become friends with a  _ Vulcan _ (okay, half-Vulcan, but whatever). He likes expressing his own emotions far and wide, and likes others to do the same, but maybe there’s something in the idea of opposites attracting.

Still, he couldn’t for the life of him work out how he’d managed to talk Spock into becoming friends. Most days he can't even recall why.

* * *

Dragon

“Er- keptin?” Chekov says slowly, his eyes fixed on something, and Jim turns around to walk over to his helmsman. They’re planet-side, because the planet was beautiful and he wanted to give the young man a little experience on landing-parties in preparation for the day he will be leading his own, and they hadn’t expected any trouble.

“What is it, Mr Chekov- ah,” he begins, then looks out in the same direction as Chekov, both of them facing out of the mouth of the cave that they’ve taken shelter in.

The sensors had read ‘large mammals’ at a considerable distance from their current location, but they hadn’t looked any further than that.

“...that’s a dragon,” Jim says, his mouth twisting into a disbelieving smile. “Okay, that’s a new one,”

“Fascinating,” Spock says lowly, approaching Jim’s other side and looking out at the magnificent sight in front of them. The dragon is some distance away, but even from there its lilac scales reflect the sunlight brilliantly, the wings beat gracefully, and a tail is poised elegantly behind it.

It is also pretty large, and headed their way.

“I believe it may be wise to find other shelter,” Spock suggests, and Jim gives him a distracted nod, unable to take his eyes off the creature.

Then he refocuses. “Wait, what’s wrong with this shelter?” he asks, turning to face Spock.

Spock holds up a single scale, as big as his hand, and Jim connects a couple of dots.

“Right,” he nods. “I think it’s about time to run,”

* * *

Greeting

“Hello,” Spock says in greeting, bowing politely to the leader of the tribe. He does not smile, but neither does he show that he is ill at ease.

He dislikes being a dignitary.

“I have come to trade,” he continues, motioning behind him to where two of the security team stand with a small pile of crates that they have beamed down. They carry phasers, but in a secured back belt, hidden from immediate sight at risk of taking longer to draw.

“Trade?” the leader asks, stepping forwards in her short dress and feathered bracelets.

“Yes,” Spock says, holding out his hands to demonstrate that he holds nothing to threaten them with (although of course his primary weapon is a nerve pinch, but they are unaware of such things).

Behind the leader, Jim, Bones and one of the newer Ensigns sit tied up and gagged. Spock does not think that the last remaining member of the landing party suffered a very fortunate fate.

“I am listening,” the tribe leader says, smiling at Spock with too many teeth bared for comfort. 

“Good,” Spock says, and begins negotiations.

* * *

Letter

Spock does not often speak of his emotions, but Jim has noticed that lately he seems almost down. Upset. Perturbed.

“Spock, is everything alright?” he asks during their regular chess game, and Spock does not hesitate.

“Have I given you cause to suspect otherwise?” he replies, and Jim smiles.

“No, your work is as exemplary as always. It’s just...you seem a little upset,” he says, and Spock is quiet for a moment.

“Maybe I can help,” Jim suggests, sensing that perhaps Spock might divest something of his feelings with a small push.

“It is not significant,” Spock says, and Jim leans forwards.

“That doesn’t mean it’s not important,” he responds with a small smile.

Spock looks up at Jim, places his bishop back on the chess board, and opens his mouth slowly, measuring the words that come out.

“Lately, I have found myself...curious, of what a different path in life would have given me,” he says.

Jim frowns. “Any path in particular?” he asks.

“I confess...a certain interest in what I may have been if I attended the VSA,” Spock says quietly. “As would have been normal for a Vulcan.”

Jim sighs. “It’s hard Spock, I know. I guess you might have had a better relationship with your father…”

“Correct,” Spock says, and Jim looks up to capture his eyes.

“But...normality? That’s overrated, Spock. It’s a path that's comfortable to walk, but no flowers will grow,” 

Spock blinks, and tilts his head slightly, gracing Jim with a slight smile as he considers the words.

“That is an illogical choice of words,” he says, and Jim startles into a laugh. “But I appreciate the meaning. I will attempt not to dwell on it again,”

“Your choices led you here to me, Spock. I, for one, am glad that you took the path you did,” Jim says softly.

Spock looks back.

“I find that I do not regret it,”

* * *

Definition

_ Character _ :

  1. The mental and moral qualities distinctive to an individual
  2. A person in a novel, play or film
  3. The objective way of viewing persons within life, to draw similarities or differences to further understanding and empathy



* * *

Fluffy

If anybody ever asks him, he will say that he had no idea who started it.

(That is untrue. It’s George, from engineering, who had in truth been the instigator of rather more things than anyone will ever tell.)

Of course, their current actions are definitely not their attempt to win the latest pool either, and there is no way they would ever pass on photos of their activities on to other members of the crew, and that especially includes Uhura, who is not running any pools either.

Opposite D’Ulva, slightly further back as to be inconspicuous, stood M’osin, his partner-in-crime. D’Ulva is trying his best not to glance at M’osin, who is surely trying just as hard as he is not to burst out into laughter, and whilst the two of them are great at laying out the pranks, neither is much for acting.

And D’Ulva is  _ not _ about to ruin this.

He glances up despite himself, immediately flashing away from the barely suppressed smile creeping across M’osin’s furry face, and is both hugely entertained and relieved to see that… it...is still there.

It really had been George who had started it. It is just going to be D’Ulva and M’osin who finish it.

D’Ulva busies himself with the computer again, pretending to be sorting through some of the records he’d taken during an experiment yesterday, having carefully made sure that it is in easy eye line of the Commander’s desk, because it is reaching Beta shift and Commander Spock is nothing if not punctual.

Right on time, the ship’s chronometer ticks over into Beta shift, and the door slides open behind him and M’osin, both pretending to be extremely engrossed in their work. He hopes that the charged atmosphere doesn't feel quite so obvious to Commander Spock, but it seems unlikely that the Vulcan would notice something quite so quintessentially human.

The heavy strides of his superior officer echo slightly as Commander Spock walks through the lab, passing D’Ulva and M’osin without question or greeting. Clearly, he is buying their act of being too busy in their work to notice him, and so D’Ulva is careful as he glances around his computer screen to see Commander Spock’s tall form come to a halt right before his desk.

The Vulcan takes a moment to catalogue the situation.

His shoulders straighten a little as he faces it, and then a hand slowly reaches out and D’Ulva bites down hard on his lower lip to stop himself from laughing and giving away the game. He watches intently as the long, pale fingers reach out and come to a stop-

On the soft, fluffy fur of a human hamster. 

It isn’t quite a tribble, but it had been the closest any of them could think of (D’Ulva and Kiera anyway; they don’t trust M’osin not to try and sneak in some strange species from his planet that would turn out to be extremely dangerous in the ship’s artificial atmosphere. They’d learnt from the first time).

There is no sound from their Commander, but the hand descends a little further onto the hamster’s soft fur, and he exchanges looks of quiet glee with M’osin, desperately hoping that Keira had stuck to her promise of monitoring the cameras for them that evening, given that she had access through her security track.

The hand comes up again, then slowly moves back down, trailing along the hamster’s back, and it stays unusually still beneath the Vulcan’s touch, clearly enjoying itself. Their commander hesitates for a moment after the second stroke, then carefully scoops the hamster up into his large hand, allowing itself to nestle there comfortably.

D’Ulva cranes his neck a little, desperately hoping for a better look (and perhaps a chance to see the expression on Commander Spock’s face. He had bet ten credits on the hamster making him smile -Janet had given in and agreed to moderate to see if the expression qualified as a smile in her books), but it’s always fun to see it himself.

He almost manages to reach a good position, his neck cricked a little awkwardly but he doesn't care, when the smooth voice of Commander Spock rings out across the room.

“Ensigns. Are you responsible for this?” he asks, and D’Ulva jumps in shock, whacking his hand against the monitor and hissing in surprised pain.

M’osin gives up on pretending to do his work, and looks up towards their superior officer, who is still standing with his back to them. “For what, sir?” he asks, tone innocent and D’Ulva silently congratulates his Caitian friend.

“Ensign D’Ulva?” Spock asks, and D’Ulva strives for the same tone of surprised innocence as M’osin had somehow managed.

“I don’t know what you mean, sir,” he says, and immediately hears the line of amusement running through his voice.

Commander Spock says nothing, and instead turns to face them, one eyebrow raised to his hairline as he looks down at the two of them, and waits.

“...It’s a hamster,” D’Ulva finally caves, and M’osin frantically waves his paw to get him to shut up, but D’Ulva knows the game is up.

“I can see that, Ensign D’Ulva. My question is therefore what is this small mammal doing on my desk?”

“...It escaped?” he tries, and M’osin slumps back into his seat with a loud moan of disappointment. Commander Spock seems to have elected not to hear it.

“It escaped.”

“Yes sir.”

“And where exactly is this creature supposed to have escaped from?”

“...I don’t know sir,” D’Ulva smiles winningly, and Spock continues to stare him down, until the smile wilts off of his face.

“In which case, Ensigns, might I suggest you get on with the work you are supposed to be doing, and I will summarily dispose of the problem,” Commander Spock orders, striding up to them and past them without further interrogation.

D’Ulva and M’osin share panicked looks as they suddenly wonder what Spock is going to do with the poor hamster, but before either of them summon up the courage to say anything, he is out of earshot.

“M’osin,” D’Ulva says faintly. “Did we just sentence a hamster to execution?”

“...I’m sure Commander Spock wouldn’t do that, right?” M’osin replies with uncertainty, his usual purr almost non-existent in his voice.

“...Yeah,” D’Ulva echoes, looking down at his desk slowly and thinking-

They both run for the door.

Janet is going to  _ kill _ them if they lose Bryony’s hamster.

Luckily for D’Ulva’s continuing existence, there haven’t been any reports of small fluffy hamsters being sent out into air locks by the time they all convene in rec room 3, so he and M’osin are tentatively hopeful that Commander Spock had been joking.

They think he was. Maybe.

Regardless, Keira has pulled through with the camera footage, and so they’re all gathered around a table in rec room 3, scanning gleefully through the stills she’s pulled up onto the screen.

And when he says ‘all’, he means that Uhura is sitting on the only chair, elegant even at the bottom of the pile of limbs, with M’osin, Keira and himself examining the photos with joy, whilst George and some of the other engineering lot are lurking on the edges and trying to see the smallish screen as well.

Janet sits opposite them, with most of their lab either on shift or asleep, and she’s commandeered a cup of tea from somewhere, probably for the express purpose of sitting there and looking serene.

“That one,” M’osin says suddenly, leaning across Uhura’s shoulder to point a sheathed claw at the picture she’s just reached. It shows the lab in excellent detail, as well as having a good angle on the hamster that had just curled itself happily into Commander Spock’s hand, but the thing that he has clearly picked it for is the expression on their Commander’s face.

It is softer than usual, and there is something crinkling around the edges of his eyes that makes Janet blush (then swear she is not blushing) and declare the mission a success. There’s something gentle about the way that he is holding the hamster too, and D’Ulva abruptly thinks (as he does several times a day) that it would be easy to fall in love with the man.

Vulcan.

Whatever.

“I think I’ll add that to the pile,” Uhura agrees, and Keira squeals brightly, grabbing hold of D’Ulva and M’osin happily and yanking them towards her. They both sputter at the tight grip cutting across their windpipes, but D’Ulva definitely feels the same sense of triumph (although he really wishes that Keira would be a little less strong or a little less enthusiastic. Either would do).

“Did we win!?” she asks Uhura enthusiastically, as D’Ulva struggles in her grip a little more, twisting just enough to be able to lick at her arm and be shoved away with another squeak.

He chuckles in triumph, then focuses all his attention on Uhura. 

“Well, you’re doing well, but there’s still another month to go!” the communications officer says, her dark eyes twinkling as she saves the photo to the ever-growing collection.

“It beats George, though right?” Keira presses, and Uhura laughed musically, looking back at George and Rob.

“Well, George made a good attempt…”

“I’ll give him more Romulan ale next time,” Rob mutters darkly, and George nods his agreement. D’Ulva thinks that that is as good a concession as he is likely to get.

Time is almost up anyway, and whilst the photo of Commander Spock with the tribbles had been hard to beat, D’Ulva is pretty sure it beats George’s attempt with copious amounts of alcohol and a strange goat-like creature from Reno II. 

They aren’t actually sure where the goat went after that, but George says he’s working on it

“Now, not a word to Mr Spock, Captain Kirk or Doctor McCoy, remember?” Uhura points her finger playfully at them all, and M’osin cocks off a half salute back at her.

No, they aren’t going to say a word. Their collection is going to make the Captain one hell of a Christmas present though.

* * *

Cleaning

In New York, 1930, Jim and Spock take it in turns to do the chores. They begin by alternating the cooking and the washing up, the laundry and the sweeping, and eventually form a pattern where Jim cooks more than cleans, and Spock rinses their clothing more than hoovers.

Jim likes his food in a particular way. Spock does not mind, because all human food is varying shades of foreign to him anyway.

Spock likes things to be clean and hygienic. If he washes the dishes, he can be sure that they are safe to eat off.

Jim doesn’t care whether he washes clothes or hoovers.

Spock works hard to hide it from Jim, but the noise of the broom against the floor is mildly abrasive to his sensitive hearing.

Jim notices easily and takes to sweeping whilst Spock is deep in his work or out doing something else.

They have a routine, the two of them, and Jim finds that he misses it back on the Enterprise (and he wonders if Spock does too).

* * *

Great Minds

Spock is not given to giving out respect where it’s not due. 

Yes, Starfleet requires him to show manners and deference to those who haven’t necessarily proven themselves worthy, but he is polite and will take the path of passiveness wherever it will not cause anyone harm, but that doesn’t mean that he respects them.

He respects James Kirk, more than most people will ever realise.

He respects most of the crew of the Enterprise in fact, because they prove themselves to him in the course of living their lives, and he does think of the ship as home.

And yet one of the things that Spock finds himself looking at above all else is optimism; a child-like ability to see a situation and think it will always turn out for the best, to look at a person and see who they could become, and he does not have that ability. He has seen too much of the world to be that naive, and he knows that Jim has too.

But Jim is always, ceaselessly, optimistic.

And Spock? He will always admire him for that.

* * *

Duality

Spock grows up on Vulcan, a half-child amongst full Vulcans who mock and sneer at him for his half-human heritage. His mother tells him that it will not always be so, and his father gives him measuring looks, as though waiting to see what he will become (waiting to be disappointed).

He grows up determined to become a Vulcan through and through, and yet can never suppress the whirlwind of emotions that Amanda bequeaths to him as an unwanted birthright. He grows up, and that simple act proves dozens of scientists wrong.

He is impetuous and reckless, and his intended T’Pring tells him as much when they first form a bond.

_ “You will never belong to this world,” _ she says and means  _ ‘we will never belong together’ _ and Spock accepts this, even as he nudges their bond to see if they can become something beyond the mere acquaintance.

She never responds. Spock sets himself to science instead, and by doing so, proves her right.

Her words never leave his head.

Jim grows up on Tarsus IV, happy and then cold and starving, a leader who does not know why or how he leads, only that he must. He is the eldest, and the one who can recall the times before best, and so he tells the younger children stories at night of picking apples from trees and their sweet crisp taste, of finding the ripest blackberries and how their tart skins nearly made him spit them out.

They listen with wide mouths, and they pretend that the food they have is enough.

He grows up determined, and when Starfleet rescues them, he is the one who the others turn to to see if they can trust them. They stare at him with trust, and he cannot betray them.

Jim grows up dreaming of a full stomach and escape from the harsh reality into the constellations above.

He applies and gets into Starfleet. The constellations fall into his grasp.

Spock argues with his father, and hides himself away in the mountains. He applies to the Vulcan Science Academy, and receives a place. He sees the pride tucked into his father’s gaze, and the love his mother openly shows, and he accepts a place at Starfleet instead.

It is cold on Earth, with rain that batters from the sky, and Spock wonders everyday if he has made the right choice. He is where he has chosen to be, and he has never felt so lonely.

Jim races through Starfleet with a pace borne of desperate ambition, and he jokes his way through the many loves that he finds there. 

Spock is given a place on the USS Intrepid; an ensign in the science laboratories, and he says no. He chooses to remain in the cold grip of Earth and teaches others how to reach the stars, rejected by the Vulcans for his humanity and the humans for his Vulcanness. He begins to wonder if he is destined for the stars at all.

Jim is given a place on the USS Farragut. He accepts with a blinding grin of happiness and reaches space within a month of graduating the academy. The world outside is dark and quiet, but the ship is friendly and warm, and Jim has no problem navigating through the crew, but he does not find one single person who looks out to the stars and sees  _ possibilityescapejoyhope _ .

He walks through the ship and right to the other side, staring out of the windows into the stars and cannot believe he is not still bound to the earth, grounded with clipped wings. And yet, for all his newfound knowledge, he wonders when he will learn to fly.

Spock is requested to become Chief Science Officer on the USS Enterprise, and the request surprises him. Most do not care for his nature, despite the quality of his research, and he has no experience in space. He therefore cannot know what to expect when he beams aboard for the first time and looks into the respectful  _ ta’al _ of Captain Pike, who looks at him and sees a person.

He is more grateful for that than his captain will ever know, and yet...there is something hollow that still burns in his chest, something small that desires more than the fascination of new life forms and microscope slides. There is no name for it, and so Spock steals glances out of the window, looking down to see if he can see Vulcan and the lives he has left behind.

He wonders if they would have been better. He wonders which of them would have been better.

Jim starts out his journey in space as a lieutenant. He serves a master who is not himself, and longs for a captaincy of his own. Captain Gavorrick takes him aside and asks him what he wants, and Jim tells him, tell him enough for the man to laugh heartily and send him on the landing teams. He is thankful and genuinely likes his captain, and then Garrovick dies on what should have been a simple mission, along with so many  _ too many _ of the people that he has come to know.

He returns back to Starfleet.

They give him a captaincy.

Spock is given a choice when Captain Pike is promoted off the starship; stay or leave. If he leaves, he will have a chance to command a ship of his own within a few years, and if he stays, he will be both First Officer and Chief Science Officer for the new captain.

He stays. He has no desire for command, and something inside of him whispers that the new captain, youngest in the fleet, might be interesting.

Jim beams up to  _ his _ starship, and meets his new first officer, Commander Spock. He is cold, dispassionate and polite to a fault, and Jim thinks that they will never become friends. They are too dissimilar; he will cultivate a professional relationship to the best of his ability, and he will allow his emotionless First Officer to continue living his life without having to form relationships with others.

And then he sees Spock eating alone at a table. He can’t help but join him, and Jim discovers to his delight that Spock can feel surprise, that he has a sense of humour, that he enjoys playing chess, and he was wrong. They are friends, and close friends too.

Spock meets his new captain, and thinks him overwhelming, blindingly so, and after every interaction he finds he must meditate to rebuild his shields. He tries to hide from the emotions that emanate from him, and then Jim begins to talk with him off duty, ekes out Spock’s hidden emotions and humour until they are undoubtedly friends.

Spock feels more still. He stands too close to his captain and feels like he will be burned, and yet something just feels right, as though this is where he belongs.

Jim finds his home in the stars, just as he always hoped he might. But it’s not the stars that make it home for him in the end. 

It’s Spock, standing at his shoulder, and the knowledge that he will never be alone again.

Never.

* * *

Missed Connections

Spock stands quietly on the public shuttle, running through some calculations in his head as he waits for it to begin, when on the platform there’s a little bit of a scuffle.

He doesn’t look. He’s happy to give the people involved privacy.

However, it’s a little harder to not be involved when he hears footsteps running over to the still-open shuttle doors, and so he looks up, and is greeted by a guy who has aesthetically pleasing features, and an oddly golden gaze.

He’s also staring right at Spock.

Spock raises an eyebrow slowly, wondering if he’s meant to know who the man is, and the stranger flushes a deep red, making him appear visually closer to a small child or innocent creature than a grown human. 

He thrusts out his hands to Spock, pressing something into the Vulcan’s palms, and Spock stiffens with the shock of the unexpected contact, wondering if the human knows just how inappropriate that is. Probably not.

“Here’s your skull!” the human says loudly, meeting his eyes fleetingly and then running back off the shuttle and onto the platform again, and Spock is a little confused and mildly horrified by the sentence.

He looks down into his palms and opens his hands. A small, ceramic skull stares back at him.

He takes a step forwards, perhaps about to return it to the man, or at the very least request further information, but as though spiting him, the doors close right then.

The golden man fades into the blur of the background, and Spock is left extremely confused, and also holding a skull. Everyone else is edging away from him slightly, which is actually a little bit pleasant.

He wonders if the man will be there again tomorrow.

He has a skull to return, after all.

* * *

Foreclosure

Jim runs a quiet hand along the humming walls of the Enterprise, and smiles. She vibrates beneath his palm, and if he were more poetic he might describe the sensation as purring, like a content cat.

It’s strange to think. This ship has been his home for two years now, and yet he will leave her for some strange building in a mere three years, one where the floor doesn’t shudder and he isn’t woken at any hour of the day to attend to strange sightings that more often than not are strange forms of space debris. A place that he owns, one that isn’t at risk of being taken away by higher ups, one with more than three square foot to walk in and the privacy to do- whatever he likes.

He pats the surface of the walls again, and smiles. 

He’s pretty content where he is.

* * *

Pranks (Part 3)

“Pavel. Commander Spock is not going to go down there. He’s the commanding officer on this ship, you think he’s going to completely disregard regulation?” Sulu tells Chekov, who gives him a withering glance.

“Ah yes, because ze keptin vas not the commanding officer either,” Chekov nods reassuringly, and Sulu flicks a nervous glance up to the screen in front of them, where they can see-

Not much.

It’s a planet. Hard to tell what’s happening from their kind of distance.

“Yeah, but the Captain isn’t about to let regulations tell him what to do,” he grins uncertainly, his brow creased a little, and Chekov snorts.

“You are right, Hikaru. Mr Spock always gives in, and never risks his life to follow Captain Kirk,” Chekov continues, a slight tremble working its way into his voice.

“When did you become so sarcastic?” Sulu mutters, and Chekov reaches out and pokes him hard. “Ow,”

“I have always been sarcastic. It is a part of my charm,” his friend says, and Sulu presses his lips closed before he can earn himself another poke.

“This better work,” he mutters to himself instead, and Chekov sends him a slightly shaky smile in return. Sulu does forget sometimes that Chekov really is much younger than him, and much less experienced, until he goes and looks nervous like this.

He doesn’t like it.

“Oi, Pavel,” he says, and summons up a teasing smile even as his fingers fly over the console. “Bet you pudding that Mr Spock doesn’t go down to the planet,”

Chekov gives him a look, and Sulu doesn’t bother to look ashamed. He doesn’t mind being called out for distractionary techniques.

“You vill lose,” Chekov declares, tilting his chin up a little, and Sulu curls down the twitching edges of his traitorous smile. They have a solid plan, so Sulu thinks he will win, but if he loses, it’s only pudding. 

And a small amount of dignity.

“Mr Spock! Receiving hailing frequencies, sir,” Uhura calls out suddenly from behind them, and Sulu turns around to see Mr Spock give him the nod from the captain’s chair.

Sulu nods back, and puts the aliens on screen.

“The Enterprise,” the leading alien says with a wide grin and just a hint of something glottal behind his words. He’s not the one who the Captain had been talking to, but if Sulu’s been following correctly, he is the one who has taken the captain.

“Yes. You are Se’lin,” Spock replies calmly, and Sulu focuses on maintaining orbit. He doesn’t know how Spock manages to stay calm in situations like these.

“You are well informed, I see,” Se;lin says, his three antennae waving around the top of his bulbous head menacingly.

“I should like to inquire as to the captain’s whereabouts and wellbeing,” Spock says, quickly dispensing with pleasantries, and Se’lin waves two of his hand-like limbs in exaggerated nonchalance.

“I’m afraid I do not know,” he says with a smirk, and Sulu turns to face Mr Spock, who once again gives him the nod.

Sulu arms the torpedoes.

“I have armed our weapons. I do not wish to fire, but if you do not give the captain back, we will be forced to retaliate to your earlier threat of force,” he says.

“You would hurt your own man?” Se’lin asks, looking a little shocked. It’s the first time he’s looked anything other than smug this whole time, and Sulu much prefers the look.

“We believe the risk minimal,” Spock says instead of replying, and the bridge holds its breath.

“...Come alone and we will talk,” Se’lin declares.

“Acceptable,” Spock replies, and Uhura cuts the transmission. Spock is already on the move, calling for security to join him on standby, and Sulu turns to look at Chekov, who is still looking a little pale, but also pretty smug.

“...I’m sure there are other ways,” Sulu sighs, and rolls his eyes.

Spock gets Jim back just fine. They go off and do whatever it is that they do, and Sulu loses his dessert to a greedy pilot. He doesn’t think he minds.

* * *

Smoke, fog and haze

“Spock?” Jim calls out, his eyes squinting blearily through the fog that has descended upon the planet. It pierces his eyes until they water, but he can make out the very edges of shapes and so he keeps them open.

There is no response.

He stumbles forwards, hands held out to protect him the next time he stumbles on the uneven ground and lands face-first, and it seems like he is the only one left on this planet. The others are all gone, beyond his hearing, beyond his steadily fading sight, and he breaks out into a series of coughs as the moisture soaks down into his throat and scratches there like it wants to escape.

This definitely isn’t normal fog.

“Spock?” he yells again, having to pause for the next round of coughs, and it is just as futile as the first time, but if he strains it seems like he can hear something, faintly but not necessarily far away-

Something brushes against his back and Jim lashes out blindly, punching hard at the area where something ought to be if it had just touched him, but he doesn’t connect with anything. See, this is the reason why Bones complains when he comes on missions. Damn ghosts.

“Who’s there?” he asks, pretending to be bold and confident in his usual array of tools. 

Surprisingly, no answer. However, it disturbingly sounds like the faint noises he heard wasn’t Spock or any of the team responding, but some form of breathing (and it’s returned).

“I’m with the Federation,” he says (well, rasps) and he gets the sense that he’s being watched, perhaps mocked, and he does his best to stand up straight and intimidating.

He still can’t open his eyes.

Something cool alights on his shoulder, and Jim spins around again, aiming a blow at where the centre of gravity ought to be, and instead of connecting, his hand is grasped gently by strong fingers and deflected.

“Spock,” he says in relief, smiling at the darkness of his eyelids, and Spock squeezes his grip around his wrist lightly.

“Captain,” Spock replies, and just like that Jim is willing to fight this creature, whatever it is.

“Glad you could make it,” he says, and they both pretend that the words aren’t completely genuine.

* * *

Sugar

Jim shifts in his sleep, tugging the thin blanket further towards him with his movement, and Spock feels as it slides off the exposed section of his ankles, leaving them out to the cold.

He sighs a little. He had expected Jim to sleep a little more quietly, with a little less fidgeting, and he has since realised that not only were such expectations illogical, they were also incorrect.

Spock sits up in the dark, pulls the blanket back towards him, and lies down again. He has peace for a couple of minutes, and he thinks that perhaps meditation will come even if sleep won’t, but just as he is settling in, Jim snuffles and yanks the blanket towards him again.

Spock frowns at the cave ceiling. It is dark, and their captors have left them for the night, with a guard no doubt right outside their (canvas) door, but Jim was exhausted and they were both a little curious about the cause for their capture, and decided to stay.

He was simply unaware that choosing to stay would require such close unguarded proximity to Jim, and also frequent loss of a blanket.

He sits up again, tugging the cotton back his direction and covering up his cold ankles, but Jim didn’t even allow him a minute’s respite this time before moving it onto himself again. Asleep, Jim was rather selfish.

Spock considers the problem for a moment, then works out a logical solution, and moves his feet further under the blanket, tucking them behind Jim’s to ensure maximum coverage. Of course, logically that means his upper body has to move too, and so he curls himself in a little further in Jim’s direction, minimising the height difference so that he can share the blanket and neither of them will die of hypothermia in the night.

Jim is lovely and warm, his body radiating heat like a toaster, and now that the blanket isn’t constantly falling off of him (and he isn’t so close to falling off the slab they were calling a bed), Spock finds it easy to close his eyes and sink into sleep.

And if he wakes up the next morning with an arm slung around Jim too? Well, neither of them mention it.

Yet.

* * *

Ducklings

“I’d like you to set up a schedule for shore leave, yeoman, allowing a week’s break here in total. It has been confirmed that-”

Jim paused in his order giving as he heard a familiar voice breaking through the peaceful atmosphere of the planet they had landed on, turning around to spy a familiar blue uniform peeking through the fresh green of the plant life.

“Sir?” Yeoman Rand asked, and Jim smiled to himself.

“Organise the shore leave, would you yeoman?” He requested, and upon her confirmation, added “Kirk out,” and snapped his communicator closed.

He waited where he stood patiently, looking towards the approaching figure of his Science Officer, who was sure to have some new and interesting information for him. 

Spock was reliable like that.

It took a couple more moments than perhaps it should have for Jim to notice that the science blue uniform wasn’t actually just one person, or indeed two, but instead a whole group of science officers, cloistered around one area.

Curious, Jim walked over through the trees that separated them, and quickly suppressed a smile at the sight that greeted him.

There was Spock, as expected, holding onto a leaf that was no doubt formed in some unusual pattern that warranted further investigation, but next to him stood a wide-eyed looking young ensign, eyes tracking Spock’s movement carefully even as the Vulcan continued some kind of educational lecture on the plant.

And next to her another officer. And another. And another.

In fact, there were around 10 or so personnel gathered around his First Officer, all thoroughly absorbed in what he was saying, even though most of the others weren’t as open about their interest as the first ensign. Jim even spotted one of the Andorians, Ensign Th’Tihren, watching the leaf as Spock pointed out some presumably unusual aspects of it, despite his usually aggressive behaviour whenever Jim had attempted approaching him.

They all seemed pretty enthralled with Spock, and he clearly didn’t mind, and rather appeared to be in his element as he continued to teach the science officers about the plant. Jim watched him fondly, and suddenly an image appeared in his mind of ducklings, wearing science blue.

He almost choked at the thought, but it settled into his mind and twitched his lips into a brilliant smile.

God, it was going to be hard to do the next check of the science department.

* * *

Numbers

The house that Spock lived in as a child was built for four occupants; two adult Vulcans and two child Vulcans. It is an optimal number for a family, because the children are capable of tending to each other’s social needs, there are two different sets of connections to be formed through their jobs and bonds, and if one should die, there is a second to ensure a continuation of the family.

Spock inhabits it with his family of three, and his parents are frequently off-world (so really, it’s a house lived in by one).

The room that Spock lives in at the academy is designed for two occupants, one on each side of the room, and Spock does his best not to anger or scare or annoy the other occupant whilst he is there. The other boy is happy to share a smile at first, but then gets more and more annoyed at Spock’s constant existence and refusal to enter into pointless conversation or socialising, and he eventually leaves. 

Spock lives in the room built for two alone.

The quarters that Spock is assigned on the Enterprise under Pike is built for one person, small and practical and lacking empty space to accuse him from the corners. It is logical for him to inhabit the space as a single individual, and he finds he enjoys this room.

The First Officer’s quarters that Spock moves into under Kirk are larger, with space to leave out his meditation things at all times. It too is designed for one person, but as the mission goes on, it becomes a room inhabited by two with the frequency of Jim’s presence for chess and eventually just conversation. Sometimes, McCoy joins them and there will be three in there (and once or twice others wind up there too and there will be five people sitting crowded in a room made for one). 

By the end, Jim shares the bed that is built for one, and Spock is not upset by the illogic.

When they return to teach at the Academy, they buy a house designed for three. He thinks that one day they will fill it.

He is content there most of all.

* * *

Dread

“But what if they don’t like me,” Jim asks as he looks in the mirror, and Spock doesn’t turn around from the small desk.

“They’ve already met you,” he says logically, and Jim rolls his eyes.

“Yes but, we weren’t dating then and I didn’t even know they were your parents!” he argues, and Spock calmly signs off on the next paperwork.

“Neither would make a significant change on who you are,” Spock says, and Jim purses his lips doubtfully, eyeing himself in the mirror.

“Hey, do you think we could meet them tomorrow?” Jim asks, the little ball of anxious dread in his stomach refusing to move, and finally Spock stands up and walks over to him.

“No. They know who to expect, it is not an issue,” Spock says, and Jim nods uncertainly, but the dread goes away a little.

* * *

Fear

“And you’re not worried about me meeting your parents properly?” Jim checks, turning his head around to face his partner, studying the well-known contours of his face.

“It would be illogical,” Spock says, and Jim frowns, searching Spock’s eyes intently.

“Just because fear is illogical doesn’t mean it isn’t there,” he points out, and catches the tiny flicker of emotion as it flashes across Spock’s dark irises. “And it’s okay to be scared too. Did your parents know you well...you know, gay, before this?”

Spock tilts his head slightly. “Vulcan do not have the same concept as humans of sexuality,” he says, and Jim blinks.

“Oh. That’s good,” he says, and Spock inclines his head.

“However, it is a rare thing to not marry one’s bondmate, and very rare to marry a non-Vulcan,” Spock discloses, and Jim gives a sheepish smile.

“Sorry,” he teases, and Spock looks at him, then returns the smile slightly.

“You are correct. I should not be afraid...because I do not regret my actions,”

Jim grins. 

“Time to face the world then, Mr Spock,”

* * *

Closed Doors

The door to the private bay in sickbay is closed again.

Bones pulls to a stop as he walks up, eyeing the closed door suspiciously. There’s always someone on shift in medbay, so it’s rare to see the door closed for any length of time when he knows they don’t have any patients.

The last time it happened was that night with the big party where the on-shift nurse had accidentally been given an alcoholic drink and was asleep in the corner, multiple patients lying in various stages of intoxication around her. The time before that had involved a failed attempt at redecoration, and those were the tamer things that Bones tended to find inside the room.

Most frequently, opening the door led to emotional trauma, sights that could never be unseen, and also a fair amount of blackmail material.

He glances around and sees nobody (well, it is his shift) and steps forwards, pressing his ear to the door suspiciously. There’s a moment of quiet, and then a far too audible gasp, and Bones jumps back with a flushed scowl.

This is why he spends half his life lecturing the crew about STDs.

He stomps over to the desk, muttering angrily below his breath, and grabs the report from the night before, checking to see if he was meant to have any patients  _ resting _ , and scanned down the list, rolling his eyes as he came to the last name- Jim. A concussion, and strict instructions not to leave (and it’s Chapel’s writing, so the man probably was forced to listen).

Still, he has no desire to see any more parts of his best friend’s anatomy when he doesn’t have to, so he marches back over to knock on the door.

“Jim!” he calls out crossly. “You decent? Need to look you over,” 

He waits a minute or so, figuring its more than enough for Jim and his lady friend to get themselves dressed, then flings open the door and walks in. “Great,” he says briskly, seeing Jim sat on the bed, and then flicks his eyes up to see Spock stood next to the bed.

Spock.

His brain grinds to a bit of a halt, quickly replaying the memory from earlier and wondering if he got the scene drastically wrong, but he doesn’t think so. Maybe there’s someone under the bed and he just missed Spock walking in?

Yeah, right. He’s not even fooling himself.

“The two of you?” he asks, an eyebrow raised, because he never was much for secrets (well, not when the truth makes mocking his friends far easier).

“What do you mean?” Jim replies innocently, and Bones snorts.

“As long as there’s no funny business in my sickbay, I couldn’t care less,” he says. “Guess you finally got your act together,”

Spock and Jim exchange glances, and Jim cracks, offering a slightly apologetic smile.

“I can never fool you,” he replies, and Bones nods. 

“Don’t know why you even try,” he says firmly, moving over to run his diagnostic over Jim, giving Spock a look that lies somewhere between impressed and horrified at the small bruises he spots on Jim’s neck.

Spock looks back without a hint of embarrassment. 

“All clear,” Bones declares, stepping back and Jim hops happily out the bed, and saunters over to the door, Spock following behind like he always does.

“Thanks Bones,” Jim says as he leaves, and Bones rolls his eyes affectionately at his idiot friends, stepping out behind them and settling down at his desk.

He’s pretty glad he didn’t open that door. Even for a doctor, there is such thing as too much information, and he’s fairly sure that the door saved him this time.

He still doesn’t trust it though.

* * *

Shadow

Esha really wishes that she had known better than to step into the strange looking shadow in the Engine Room. She’s read enough of the mission reports to know that strange shadows never end well, and also that if there is any form of trouble, the Enterprise is bound to find it, and yet still here she is.

Stuck in it.

At first she tried calling out to Ensign McWilliam, whom she’d shared a shift with last week, but he hadn’t been able to hear her for some reason. She’d yelled at Sydney and Christopher, with a couple of waves for added measure, and they’d walked straight past her.

Hell, she’d even tried slapping a few people. That hadn’t gone so well, if only because she’d found that her feet were pretty much glued to where she’d first entered the strange shadow, and almost overbalanced the first two times (and the third time the engineer had just stepped away on accident. She thinks).

She was beginning to wonder if she’d actually died and become a ghost by the time anything different happens. 

Esha is standing there (she tried sitting, but her feet weren’t cooperating) and barely paying attention to the living people in the room, because she’s been there for four hours and not much is getting through to them. She’s not paying any attention at all actually, and she knows this because  _ somebody walks through her _ .

She shrieks at the feeling, concentrating again as she looks wildly around for the person who did that, and is more than a little horrified to see that its Commander Spock. He terrifies her, partly because of his Vulcan nature and partly because she heard stories of how he knows everything that happens on the ship and whenever anyone messes up, he is the one who will deal with it.

Sydney came back with a strange, haunted look in her eyes from the time she’d ordered the wrong part replacement and almost seen them drifting through space without functioning engines.

Chris came back with a terrified gleam and abnormal concentration after he fell asleep on shift. 

Esha wonders if this does mean she’s now a ghost, and also wonders if he felt anything. Oh god, what if he read her thoughts? She’s heard Vulcans can do that, and so she stares aghast at the back of Commander Spock’s dark head, and slowly he breaks off his conversation and turns around.

She staggers back, because he’s looking right at her, and then suddenly realises that her feet have moved for the first time since this whole shadow thing. She squeals happily, running over to Sydney, but apparently she still can’t be seen, heard or felt.

But Commander Spock felt something.

Esha resigns herself to a living death, or perhaps a complex attempt at research whilst being incapable of physical interaction, when all of a sudden her feet start moving.

She looks down with horror, and sees that she is a couple of paces behind Commander Spock, trailing unwillingly in his footsteps, and although it’s nice to finally leave the engine room, she’s also a bit worried where they’re going. 

Fortunately, it turns out that Commander Spock seems to be headed for the bridge, given that he stands in the turbolift and says ‘bridge’, travelling up in awkward silence made more awkward by the fact that Esha knows he doesn’t know she’s there.

She wonders what Sydney would do in her place. She thinks they’d both just be glad that they haven’t been properly killed yet.

“Hello?” Esha says quietly, daring a glance up at the Vulcan she stands next to, but there is no response. 

She tries again.

“Can you hear me?” she asks, and Commander Spock steps forwards through her as the lift doors ding and they open onto the bridge.

Esha spends a moment being mildly offended, then her feet carry her on into the bridge, which is actually kind of really cool. She’s been up here before, but only once or twice, and the Captain is there along with Lieutenant Uhura.

Spock walks straight over to the science station though, and Esha is bound pretty close by, so all she can really do is stare in amazement as Lieutenant Uhura mans the comms stations, and occasionally wander slightly closer to Captain Kirk in his central chair.

Spock doesn’t greet anyone either, but he gets friendly smiles when he steps in, and when Uhura returns from a short break mid-shift, she goes over to him. Esha perks up, because she doesn’t really understand what’s happening on this section of the bridge, and also because she loves people.

“Mr Spock, we missed you last night,” Uhura smiles, and Esha stares. Is that flirting? Is she flirting with the Commander?

Spock doesn’t look up.

“I regret I had other commitments,” he says, and Uhura pouts, leaning on the console next to the Vulcan, and Esha is fascinated.

“You mean to tell me that you found something more interesting than me? I thought we had something special,” Uhura looks hurt, and Esha wonders if there really is drama going on amongst the bridge crew that she knows nothing about.

“I believe I agreed to join you tomorrow evening instead, Lieutenant,” Spock says calmly, not responding to Uhura properly at all.

Esha hopes she can find a way to tell Sydney this. She’s going to love it.

Uhura laughs brightly. “You know I’m just teasing you, Mr Spock. I can’t wait for tomorrow,” she says, and Esha shivers suddenly as someone walks through her whilst she is engrossed in the conversation.

“Tomorrow? Are you having a party without me, Mr Spock?” the captain asks, stepping over to the little group. The ensign just about manages to contain her excitement (he really is handsome up close, although she doesn't think he quite beats Lieutenant Uhura).

“Yes, captain,” Spock says plainly, finally looking up from the scanner, and Esha blinks at the deadpan comment, because it sounds a lot like a joke.

The captain mock-scowls, eyes meeting Spock’s, and says “I guess my company just isn’t good enough for you anymore,”

Uhura chimes in “Excuse me captain, I believe this is my dance,”

The captain grins at her instinctively, then glances around the bridge and leans in closer to the two (well three) of them. “That’s not what Spock said last night,” he winks, and Uhura giggles, covering her mouth delicately and raising an eyebrow at the Vulcan.

Esha goes bright red. She’s suddenly very glad that no one can see her.

“Captain, we are on the bridge,” Spock says in admonishment, and the captain grins brightly, leaning back out and returning to a normal volume.

“Correct as usual, Mr Spock,” he says, and meanders back to his chair. Uhura smiles at his retreating back, leaning down to Spock.

“Adorable,” she whispers to him, and Esha thinks that Commander Spock did not deny anything that Captain Kirk said, and also that the tips of his ears have gone a faint green and she’s fairly sure that is how Vulcan blushes.

“Do you not have work to do?” Spock inquires of Uhura, and the woman chuckles, standing up and walking back to her seat, finding time to send one last wink backwards, and Spock raises an eyebrow in her direction, before turning back to the scanner.

Esha sees though, that just before he turns, there’s the hint of a smile on his face.

She thinks that maybe Commander Spock isn’t as terrifying as she thought after all, and also perhaps that this strange shadow business might be quite entertaining (and hopefully not last too long).

She thinks that all the way through the shift on the bridge, the shift in the labs, the time in the mess hall, and then is extremely relieved when Captain Kirk cancels a ‘chess game’ for the evening before she has to witness anything of that sort, and somehow, 24 hours later, Commander Spock looks up from his desk and sees her.

“Ensign. What are you doing in here?” he asks, his tone dangerous, and Esha stares blankly before it hits her. She’s free!

-and also about a moment from death.

“Sorry sir, there was this thing with a shadow, and then I got stuck and I didn’t mean to be in here, I’m really sorry, but it-”

“Slowly,” Commander Spock orders, and Esha explains. Eventually, he goes off to investigate the strange shadow, and Esha is given a day off to go get some sleep (because she wasn’t able to sleep during her strange ghost-time) and no punishment of any sort.

(Sydney asks her what happened. She tells Sydney most things...but keeps a couple of facts to herself. She gets the feeling some things are better kept private).

* * *

Good Vibes

“There appears to be a malfunction, captain,” Spock says as JIm attempts to correct their course.

“Ya think?” McCoy mutters from behind them, and Spock raises an eyebrow, a movement that McCoy more senses than sees.

“I do indeed think. I am, however, unsure of how to fix it,” he replies calmly, and Jim sends them both a slightly crazed grin.

“I’m trying!” he says loudly, fingers flying over the console in front of him almost as fast as Spock’s, and McCoy watches them both work and decides not to say anything for a moment.

It might just be him, but he doesn’t feel like dying today.

After a few moments, the flashing red light goes off. McCoy notices from his seat in the back where he is leaning very far forwards in an attempt to be in on the action, despite the fact he doesn’t know a thing about what Jim and Spock are doing.

“...That’s good right,” he ventures a guess, and Jim takes his turn to respond.

“I hope so!” he says, and McCoy sits back with a grumble, because he kind of wishes that neither one of his friends would respond if that’s the kind of news they like to give.

Finally, Jim slumps back into his seat, relaxing his arms, and Spock stops moving quite as frantically.

“Well,” Jim says, and unbuckles his seatbelt.

“What the hell are you doing you idiot, if we’re crashing I think you ought to be-”

“Bones, Bones,” Jim laughs, clapping a hand on his friend’s shoulder as he stands to stretch in the middle of their admittedly small shuttlecraft. “We aren’t crashing,”

“...We aren’t?” Bones asks suspiciously. It looks like Jim isn’t lying, but he could also be lying. He doesn’t really know.

“Spock?” he asks, because Spock does not lie. Well, most of the time. Unless it's for a good cause.

“We are not currently crashing,” Spock confirms without turning around, and McCoy grunts.

“And in the near future?” he checks, because that word choice is suspicious.

“Many indicators show that we will continue to not crash,” Spock confirms, and McCoy decides to take the assurance for what it is.

“Great,” he says, also unbuckling his seatbelt and standing up. “So what just happened?” 

“A malfunction,” Spock says unhelpfully, and McCoy rolls his eyes.

“Yes, I do actually have functioning brain cells,” he snipes, and Spock raises an eyebrow, turning around in his seat to look at the doctor.

“I was unaware,” he says drily.

“Yeah well screw you,” McCoy swears at him, and Spock looks far too offended for an alien that likes to claim not to have emotions.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” Jim laughs, looking fondly at the two. “We’re going to be fine. We aren’t crashing, we just have a little bit of a engine problem,”

“Why do I agree to go anywhere with you two,” McCoy bemoans, looking up at the metal ceiling as though it might hold some answers. He’d prefer to look to a glass of bourbon, but they seem to be in short order.

“You insisted on joining us,” Spock points out.

“And I wish I hadn’t,” McCoy immediately shoots back, and Jim gives him an incredulous look.

“You said that last time when we ran into the colony of giants. And the time before, with those flesh-eating bacteria. And that time with-”

“Okay, I don’t need you to recite all my previous mistakes at me, Jim,” McCoy says with a sigh, holding up a hand.

Jim obligingly shuts up. Bones looks over, because he hadn’t expected it to be that easy, and finds that Jim and Spock are doing that thing where they just look at each other again.

“Yeah, not on my watch,” he says and shoves himself into the limited space between them, forcing Jim back with a hand and Spock back through the fact of his existence.

“Bones?” Jim asks, confused, and Bones pretends like he doesn’t hear him because he does not fall for this innocent act that they like to play up.

“So can we fix it?” he says to Jim.

“Mr Spock?” Jim throws the question over, and McCoy reluctantly turns to look at Spock, who is indeed giving him a Look because of his decision to stand between him and Jim. McCoy regrets nothing.

“I believe it is possible to fix the issue, however it would be faster to simply wait for the Enterprise to notice that we have not checked in, which will occur in approximately 18 hours time,” Spock reports, and McCoy swears.

“Are you kidding me? You want me to stay locked up in here with you two idiots for the next day and a half?”

“Doctor, I calculate that it will only take the Enterprise 3 hours to reach our current location from the time a search is begun, therefore it will likely be 26.7 hours before we are reached-”

“Spock, an hour here would feel like a lifetime,” McCoy informs his alien friend, who frowns.

“That is incorrect-”

“If you try to give me logic-”

“I am attempting to indicate why you are wrong-”

“I am not wrong, you green-blooded-”

“Anybody fancy any rations?” Jim breaks in cheerfully, gnawing on one of the ration bars from the emergency kit in the back of the shuttlecraft. McCoy takes one huffily and sits down on a seat slightly further back, breaking off his argument in favour of food.

It is not good food. It is, however, food, and so he will eat it.

“I will decline, captain,” Spock says, and McCoy pointedly turns away so he doesn’t have to see the mushy look of concern that Jim is no doubt giving him.

“Are you sure Spock? You need to keep your energy up,”

“Thank you for your concern, Jim, but it is unnecessary. It is better to conserve our limited food supply in case of an emergency,”

“For fuck’s sake, kill me now,” Bones mutters, and wonders if there’s a decent set of earplugs on the ship. He might start insisting that the emergency kit contains them, although admittedly explaining the need for them might prove difficult without resorting to insulting his captain and First Officer.

“What was that, Bones?” Jim asks, his tone somewhere between innocent and definitely-fucking-with-him.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, Jim,” Bones replies, and Jim immediately walks over to take a seat next to him, leaving Spock to fiddle some more with the clearly useless controls.

“You don’t need to worry, Bones. The Enterprise will get us long before our orbit starts to decay,” he says with a bright smile, and McCoy gives him a deadpan look that he normally likes to save for Spock.

Then he considers.

“Wait, are you telling me that we might actually start falling out the sky if they take too long?” he asks, suddenly worried.

Jim smiles reassuringly, and Bones is not reassured.

“No, no, Sulu will get here long before that,” he says, claps a hand on his shoulder, and walks back to share long, lingering looks with Spock.

Bones wonders if this is the right time to recall that one incident where Sulu came to him with a small tree growing out of his palm after he’d touched the wrong part of it, and it had latched onto him as its new energy source. He hadn’t even seemed all that regretful, the idiot, and had proceeded to keep said plant-

“We really are going to die,” Bones realises, and wishes really hard for a bucket of alcohol.

It doesn’t appear.

He eats his ration bar mournfully, and begins to plot ways to ensure that Spock and Jim keep their eyes and hands to themselves for the next 26.7 hours. 

* * *

Shopping

Spock shops very rarely, given that he owns a perfectly adequate set of meditation robes, formal and informal robes and a set of human clothing. He is given Starfleet uniform for daily usage, and he does not have much need for buying more things.

Jim, on the other hand, has a room full of spontaneous purchases, most of them cheap and with sentimental value to him and him alone. Spock has previously seen him with three variations of a human ‘snowglobe’, and although he is uncertain as to its purpose, Jim enjoys them and possibly has more hidden away. Spock has never cared enough to learn if this is the case.

Bones likes to spend money on good food and drink, or at least what he deems good in his own strange manner. He might buy one thing for every four things Jim buys, but they end up spending similar amounts of money because Bones goes for quality over quantity. He also has a varied collection of medical advances, some useful and others historical, because although past medicine has been barbaric, he finds a fascination in its instruments.

Spock finds over the years that he spends most money on the gifts that humans value so much. He does not intend to at first, but they are on a starbase and there’s a small stone that glows under certain wavelengths of light, and for some reason it reminds him of Jim and his love for odd shiny things. 

That one is inexpensive. He buys it and leaves it on Jim’s bed.

On one of their trips to the past, Spock finds himself walking through an abandoned house, the walls cracked and graffiti scrawled across its walls, and on a cabinet there is an old-fashioned inhaler. He thinks of McCoy and wonders whether anybody will miss it, and recalls that it was once used as a breathing assistant and takes precious minutes to examine its proportions and components so he can program one into the replicator when they return.

McCoy never mentions the gift, but he refrains from insulting Spock for an entire day.

His most expensive purchase is a house, one near the academy in San Francisco. That is surprisingly impulsive for him, because he walks past it one day and sees the ‘For Sale’ sign and thinks abruptly of the small flat that he shares with Jim (and occasional Bones when he drops into the area).

The house is bigger, an old-fashioned style with swooping window arches that he thinks Jim will like, and ivy crawling up along the wall that Spock thinks adds aesthetic pleasure to the building. It has three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen and a living area, and Spock walks in to inquire more from the single mother who is moving out.

She gives him a discount, and says she hopes he will be happy. He says he hopes that Jim will like it, and she gives him a look of soft understanding.

Jim loves it.

* * *

Jewellery

“Hey Spock,” Jim says casually, and Spock smiles slightly as he walks through the door, entering through the front even though they all know that there are adjoining doors. It used to be for politeness, but the usage has drifted more into appearances.

“Captain,” Spock nods, taking his seat at the table and looking around at the decorations with a raised eyebrow.

“Is there a human celebration that I have missed?” he asks, and Jim laughs brightly and a little nervously.

“Not yet,” he says, a little mysteriously, and Spock eyes him.

“Is this an imminent issue?” he asks. Jim smiles wider.

“It’s called a date,” he says, and Spock slowly looks around and nods. 

“I see,” he says, and Jim looks at him fondly. He knows Spock doesn’t see, but he did it anyway. They settle in to the meal; their usual combination of Earth food and Vulcan side-dishes, because they are both a little stubborn and unable to commit to one form of meal.

Their plates are mostly cleared when Jim decides it’s time.

“Hey Spock, I had something to ask you,” Jim says finally, the ball of nerves in his stomach tightening around his tongue and heart.

“Yes Jim?” Spock replies, meeting Jim’s eyes, and Jim swallows.

“You know...when we first met, I was expecting you to be cold and serious, and tough to get along with. I thought...because you were Vulcan, that you wouldn’t like to take orders from me, that maybe we’d struggle to communicate,” he begins.

Spock raises an eyebrow. “I too am glad that we do not clash,”

JIm quirks a smile, and forges on. 

“Yes, well as I got to know you, I learnt that you aren’t cold Spock, just private. I’ve learnt that you are the kindest person i’ll ever meet, the most loyal person too, and it was so easy for you to become my best friend, the person whose company I enjoy the most...it was so easy to fall in love with you Spock,” Jim confesses, and Spock doesn’t reply this time, keeping his steady gaze on Jim.

He stands up slowly.

“Our mission is coming to an end soon, but I don’t want to ever be separated from you Spock. I love you, and I want you by my side for as long as we live,” he smiles, blinking back tears, and drops to one knee.

“S’chn T’gai Spock...family name that I can’t pronounce...will you marry me?”

He breaks eye contact for the first time, reaching into a pocket to pull out a ring that was somewhat roughly soldered by his rusty metal-working skills, taken from a broken panel of the Enterprise that Scotty was disposing of. A small pinkish stone glints from the centre of the band; a tiny piece of dilithium crystal from their broken warp drive all that time ago. He thinks Spock will find it missing.

“Taluhk nash-veh k’dular, Jim,” Spock says quietly, gazing down at him.

Jim blinks.

“Yes,” Spock says simply, and Jim feels his face slowly break out into a brilliant smile, and he leans forwards to slide the ring carefully onto Spock’s elegant fingers, where it sits slightly too large, but that can be easily fixed.

“Yes?” he repeats, a little dazed, and Spock stands up, Jim following him, and holds out his two fingers in the ozh’esta.

Jim presses his fingers to Spock’s gently, then reaches up to give him a human kiss too.

Spock resizes the ring himself the next day, and begins intensive research on what sort of ring to give JIm, and then they have to tell their parents, and begin wedding planning, and work out what they’re going to do after the five-year mission ends and-

Spock has never been happier. His new ring reminds him of that every time he looks down, and soon Jim will have one that will remind him too.


End file.
